Making a House a Home
by Syblime
Summary: Sybil and Tom are fixing up a new home in Ireland. My contribution to the S/T secret santa for the wonderful Foojules.


_Figured I should post this to FF as well as Tumblr...My contribution to the S/T Fix Exchange: **Merry Christmas foojules!** (Sybil and Tom are fixing up a new home (can be in Ireland or after they've returned to England). Hilarity ensues.)_

* * *

Sybil lay awake, still snuggled up in the warmth of the bed, alongside her husband. Her husband. Those words, still so new, sent a feeling of warmth through her whenever she thought them, in perfect contrast to the chill that went through her at the sound of the wind and thunder that had woken her. However, her thoughts were not trained on Tom, who was still sleeping peacefully, but rather on the dripping noise that was resonating from one corner of their bedroom. She'd found the leak one day after walking across town, from her mother-in-law's, in the rain. Looking forward to getting dry, she unfortunately found her other shoes to be wet, and felt the splashes of water coming from the ceiling. She had placed a bucket under it, but the noise was now echoing off the metal. She turned over. The apartment had been a lucky find. It was a good size and it was close enough to Tom's job with the paper. Sybil was yet to find a job, but the area was promising for her too. Their landlady had been very welcoming and had accepted Sybil's accent without hesitation, instead of slamming the door in their faces, as a number of other landlords had done before. But despite all the positives, it still didn't feel like home. Sybil couldn't pinpoint why. Maybe it was because Tom was busy with work and she was on her own more than she'd anticipated, or because she'd already had a few too many disasters in the kitchen. Maybe it was because she still had a trunk to unpack, or the fact she'd been lying awake in the middle of the night, worrying about the rain. Tom had promised her that he would fix it, but the nights weren't cold and the dripping didn't seem to bother him. Sybil sighed and turned over again. She closed her eyes and tried to relax, in a desperate attempt to get back to sleep. Tom's mother had already commented on the dark rings around her eyes. The Branson family had accepted Sybil fairly quickly, once they had met her, but she could tell that the older Mrs Branson still had her doubts.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Sybil's eyes flew open again. There was no way she would get back to sleep now! She would have to talk to Tom in the morning. Sliding out of the covers, she crept out of the room and established herself in one of their armchairs, with her book.

~X~

Tom woke to find his wife missing from the bed and a bucket half full of water in the corner of the room. Having emptied the bucket, he found Sybil asleep in her chair by the fireplace, a book open on her lap and her breathing deep and even. He would have smiled at the adorable sight of his wife, curled up by the fire, if he wasn't so concerned about her seeking refuge away from their bedroom quite so often. He continued getting ready for work without disturbing her. She only began to stir as he was collecting a few articles together to take with him.

"Did I fall asleep?" She asked groggily.

"Yes love."

"What time is it?"

"Twenty past seven, so I should probably go." He placed the articles in his briefcase and retreated into the tiny hallway. Sybil followed him.

"Have a good day, Tom."

"You too, love." He leaned down to kiss her. Already, this was very much established as a routine, but Sybil's kiss this morning was particularly insistent, and Tom was leaving the house quite breathless when she called out to him.

"Tom! Please can you fix the leak in our bedroom this weekend?"

He frowned slightly as she said it. "Is that what's been keeping you up recently?" Subconsciously she bit her lip, and looked sheepish. "Oh, Sybil." He admonished gently, also trying not to laugh. She looked so endearing. "I'll pick up some wood tonight."

"Thank you, Tom."

~X~

Sybil came home Saturday morning to find Tom halfway up a small ladder, tapping away at the ceiling with a hammer.

"Tom?" She questioned.

"You're back. How was the market?" He climbed down and kissed her cheek, before reaching for some other tool and climbing back up.

"Busy as usual." She answered. "Tom? Are you sure that's not going to make it worse? It was already beginning to rain while I was out and I really don't want our bedroom to be flooded." The response she got was non-committal, so she left him to it. At midday, she took Tom a sandwich and sat and watched him work for a bit. It was almost like being back at Downton, with her sheltering in the garage while he worked, shirtsleeves rolled up and muscles flexing. After lunch, she went to get on with some baking. She could still hear Tom, tapping away, with a few choice words every so often. But she was just measuring out some flour when there was a loud crash and the sound of water.

She rushed into the bedroom to see a soaking wet Tom sitting awkwardly on the floor, surrounded by part of the ceiling, the ladder and the bucket. The carpet was probably ruined, not to mention the hole that had started all this trouble was now at least double in size, but Sybil couldn't stop herself from giggling.

"It's not funny!" Tom moaned. That just caused Sybil to laugh more. He was looking so sorry for himself.

"What happened?" She spluttered, crouching down beside him, trying to make sure he was alright, although she knew that if he wasn't, he wouldn't be pouting so much.

"I fell off the ladder." He muttered. That time Sybil didn't hold back her laughter. "Hey!" Tom protested, pushing slightly on Sybil's knee. However, the way she had been sitting on her heels meant she overbalanced, upsetting the bucket as she fell, covering them both in more water! This time, it was Tom who started giggling at the shocked expression on his wife's face.

"Tom Branson, I'll get you for that!" She told him, getting up. She stood for a moment, looking down at her dripping clothes, before quickly grabbing one of the pillows off the bed and hurling it at Tom. She squealed as he aimed it back at her, and fled to the kitchen. Trying to figure what she'd been doing before she had been interrupted, Tom caught her round the middle and spun her round.

"Not so fast, Mrs Branson." Tom was leaning in to kiss her, when she whacked him with the tea towel. They continued round the kitchen, until a loud smash brought them back into the real world.

"Oops." Sybil looked at the flour all over the floor, then at Tom. Simultaneously they burst out laughing again. "Well, Mr Branson," she continued, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes once they had finally calmed down, "I suggest, you go and see if your brother can help you with the bedroom, so that we will have somewhere to sleep tonight. I'll clear up the kitchen."

"Yes love." He agreed, kissing her firmly on the lips, and heading out of the door. There was no point in changing, since the rain was still pouring down, inside and out.

~X~

Now if Sybil happens to be awake at night, due to a particularly worrying case of a patient, or anything, she looks up into the corner of their room at the piece of wood placed awkwardly across the ceiling and falls back asleep with a smile on her lips. She would never have thought that messing the house up entirely would be what they needed to do to make the house a home.


End file.
